


Justy's Kinktobter 2020 Offerings

by justfe3hthings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Kinks listed in TOC/CW in chapters, Kinktober 2020, Multi, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justfe3hthings/pseuds/justfe3hthings
Summary: Hello all! Rather than stuff the tags with kinks, I decided to put them here in the table of contents. Further content warnings will be in each chapter, mostly due to me stuffing multiple themes into prompts. All characters are over 18, no matter what setting, and all acts are consensual regardless if consenting is off-screen or not mentioned. Please take care and if you see a content warning that's an issue for you, absolutely feel free to skip that chapter, I won't be offended.I'm planning on writing/publishing in batches and will update the table of contents accordingly.Here's the first seven days!Day 1: Body Swap/Size Difference [Ashe/Dedue]Day 2: Forniphilia (Human Furniture): [Sylvain/Mercedes/Annette]Day 3: Sharing/Lending: [Felix/Sylvain+Others]Day 4: Spanking: [Dedue/Felix/Dimitri]Day 5: Body Writing: [Edelgard/Ingrid/Dorothea]Day 6: Predicament Bondage: [Claude/Lorenz]Day 7: Sadism: [Hubert/Ferdinand]
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Lysithea von Ordelia, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Dedue Molinaro, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Judith von Daphnel/Ignatz Victor, Leonie Pinelli/Bernadetta von Varley, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 19
Kudos: 128





	1. Table of Contents

Hello all! Rather than stuff the tags with kinks, I decided to put them here in the table of contents. Further content warnings will be in each chapter, mostly due to me stuffing multiple themes into prompts. All characters are over 18, no matter what setting, and all acts are consensual regardless if consenting is off-screen or not mentioned. Please take care and if you see a content warning that's an issue for you, absolutely feel free to skip that chapter, I won't be offended.

I'm planning on writing/publishing in batches and will update the table of contents accordingly.

Day 1: Body Swap/Size Difference [Ashe/Dedue]  
Day 2: Forniphilia (Human Furniture): [Sylvain/Mercedes/Annette]  
Day 3: Sharing/Lending: [Felix/Sylvain+Others]  
Day 4: Spanking: [Dedue/Felix/Dimitri]  
Day 5: Body Writing: [Edelgard/Ingrid/Dorothea]  
Day 6: Predicament Bondage: [Claude/Lorenz]  
Day 7: Sadism: [Hubert/Ferdinand]  
Day 8: Stuffed Full: [Edelgard/Hilda]  
Day 9: Temperature Play: [Marianne/Hilda]  
Day 10: Day 10: Sound Restriction: [Yuri/Ashe]


	2. Day 1: Body Swap/Size Difference [Ashe/Dedue]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's simple. Ashe/Dedue Body Swap/Size Difference, any setting. No, I don't know how they body-swapped. I suspect Claude is involved.

"This is odd." Dedue says, squirming from Ashe's touch.

"Good odd, or bad odd?" Ashe asks, glancing up from where he's opening up, well, himself, with two of Dedue's thick fingers.

"I'm not sure, but I can't say that looking at myself is entirely… inspiring."

"But you're gorgeous!" Ashe insists, indignantly, the words much deeper and sterner than he intended.

It's so much easier to see Dedue's blush on his own face, he realizes, enraptured by just how much the compliment had affected his partner.

"But, ahh-" Dedue squirms again as Ashe slowly pushes another finger in, more for Dedue's mental benefit than for any actual need to go slow for Ashe's body's sake. Ashe might be used to taking Dedue's cock on the regular, but _Dedue_ had never taken something so large before and goodness, even his fingers are intimidating the first time.

"I'm not my type." Dedue manages, moving his hips and grinding down on the fingers pushing and pulling at his hole.

"You could turn over, if it makes you more comfortable." Ashe says, though he'd hate to see less of Dedue's reactions, even if they come from his face.

Dedue nods and Ashe pulls back, slicking Dedue's cock while the other man turns over, wiping his hands clean on a washcloth.

"It isn't too strange for you?"

"Of course not, I'm very pretty. And that definitely is one of my types." Ashe teases, running Dedue's large hands down his own back to his ass, marveling at the contrast between Dedue's darker skin and his own pale speckled skin. He follow the spots down, tracing them in meaningless patterns and oh, goodness, he really does have freckles _everywhere_ doesn't he?

The ass in question lifts as he cups his cheeks, Dedue pushing up into them with an impatient huff.

Ashe chuckles, spreading his cheeks and gazing at the twitching pink hole between, sick with oil and slightly open from the preparation moments ago. He's unable to resist teasing, circling his hole with Dedue's thumb. It's exquisite torture when Dedue does this to him, how would he deprive his lover of the same treatment?

"Ashe, please!" Dedue begs, the words a whine in Ashe's voice.

He chuckles, lifting his hips up, larger thumbs perfectly capable of keeping his cheeks spread while doing so. He's so small, compared to Dedue, he realizes, sliding Dedue's cock through his cleft watching the tinier hole twitch when it's slid against. Seeing himself this way makes him understand why Dedue is always so cautious, even though there's no need to.

He slides in, reveling in the overwhelmed moan punched out of the other man. 

"I know, I know," he coos, not giving Dedue any time to adjust before moving, knowing that his body doesn't need it. "You're so big and it’s a lot to take." 

Leaning over, he drapes Dedue's broad chest over himself, framing him in as he continues at the gentle and steady and frustrating pace that Dedue always insists on, afraid of hurting him.

"Feeling good?" he asks, driving his hips in the same controlled, measured pace, grinning at Dedue pushing back, desperate for more in the same manner Ashe always does.

Dedue nods, panting, Ashe's silvery hair flopping down over his face.

"Want more?" he teases, keeping steady, not letting Dedue's movements around him push him into giving more.

"Please!"

"Want to see just how much I can take?"

Dedue freezes, hips still, and turns his head towards Ashe, deep green eyes wide. Ashe can the gears turning in his head, all the times Ashe had begged for it harder and faster and rougher. For Dedue to let loose his control. All the times he insisted he could take it, and Dedue refused out of worry.

Ashe grins when Dedue nods eagerly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Hold on, then, and pay attention."


	3. Day 2: Forniphilia (Human Furniture): [Sylvain/Mercedes/Annette]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one does come with a little bit of a warning: This is a D/s-verse setting, where everyone's born either a submissive or a dominant and where those urges are a biological imperative. That being said, each of these characters have more than negotiated how to fulfill that biological imperative and everyone wants to be there.
> 
> Other content notes: Gentle femdom, cock cages, references to impact play and sex toys. Light humiliation, but not mean.
> 
> Does this take place in my Leather, Lace, and Knitted Things story universe? Absolutely! Will I take this scene and use it later for other works in that universe? Probably!

"Strip for me, both of you."  
  
They both jump to comply, and Mercedes can't tell which of the two is more eager. Annette, with her usual zest for life or Sylvain, antsy after nearly a week locked away and hoping to win her favor.   
  
Sylvain finishes first, simplicity of just shirt, trousers, and undergarments making the task effortless, even with neatly folding his clothes and setting them aside. He turns to help Annette with the lacing of her corset as she mutters darkly, her fingers clumsy. Once the laces are free and she can get through the rest of her clothing without trouble, he sinks to his knees, head bowed. Annette joins him when she finishes sorting out her own clothing, the pair of them beautiful and being so good for her.  
  
She considers them a moment, then moves forward to stand between them, a hand caressing Annette's face and wiping away a smudge of icing that had somehow remained undetected.   
  
"Go sit on the bed, I still haven't decided what I want to do with you tonight."  
  
Annette scrambles off her knees, all grace forgotten, giving her a quick kiss before turning and hopping up on the bed, swinging a leg back and forth.  
  
Mercedes stifles a laugh, turning to Sylvain who's biting his lip, either waiting for instruction or holding back pleas to be let out for the night.  
  
"And what am I to do with you?" She tilts his chin up, and his warm brown eyes are begging, even if the rest of him remains still and quiet. "You still have all of tomorrow to go."  
  
He shifts on his knees, eyes desperate, and she hums, considering, before she runs a hand through his hair and gives it a gentle tug, moving towards the bed.  
  
"Come with me, I have an idea."  
  
He crawls after her eagerly, led by the careful pull of her hand, no doubt thinking that she's going to put his skilled tongue and fingers to use in pleasing Annette or herself, as she's done throughout this week when she hasn't had him quietly watching them with each other. And, well, that may be a possibility, if he's good, but she has other plans first. Annette has to earn her pleasure, after all.  
  
She stops at the bed, still holding his hair, and turns him facing away.  
  
"Stay like that for me," she says, releasing her hold and guiding his shoulders down until they're level with his hips.  
  
He nods, confused, and she can't help the giggle that slips out at both his and Annette expressions as they try to figure out what purpose she has in mind for that position.  
  
While they're distracted, she pulls Annette's toy box out from underneath the bed, pulling out one of Annette's favorite paddles, laying it on the small of Sylvain's back. A couple of dildos, nipple clamps, and a plug join the paddle before she turns her attention back to them.  
  
"Be still, don't let this roll off." She says, tapping near the plug.  
  
"Mercedes-" He says, confused and struggling.  
  
"Tables don't talk, Sylvain."   
  
He freezes, eyes flying to hers, and Annette gasps.  
  
It’s a risk, after all the times he's mentioned feeling used, just a thing that other women valued just for his crest and then discarded when they realized he wouldn't give them what they wanted. But there's something she's seen in the way that teasing and humiliation pulls him under, if done gently, that hints this might be something he'll enjoy.  
  
Mercedes watches him carefully, as he fights with himself, anger and arousal flushing across his face. She'll take it back, take care of him and have him do something else if it's not something he'll take.  
  
"This is how I'd like you to serve me tonight, sweetheart. If that's alright." she says, caressing his cheek, watching the acceptance, the focus in his eyes softening.  
  
"People don't talk to their tables, Mistress." he murmurs, shuddering, bowing his head and sinking into submission, the flush from his face spreading down his neck and shoulders.   
  
She smiles, giving his cheek a gentle pat before ignoring him entirely, reaching for the paddle and turning to Annette.


	4. Day 3: Sharing/Lending: [Felix/Sylvain+Implied/Mentioned Others]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this one: Blindfolds, humiliation/degradation, little bit of a mindfuck. 
> 
> This one was fun to write! I will admit, I'm not sure how the humiliation/degradation went. I'm not one for it much myself and I know I probably have a much lighter touch with it than somebody who's really into it.

"So," Sylvain says, hand flopping around trying to find the button to lean the seat back so he can slouch, "You going to tell me where we're going? What this is about?"

'This' being his collar worn out in the relative public of their car in the early evening darkness and the blindfold Felix had handed him without a word when he shuffled Sylvain into the passenger's seat instead of allowing him to chauffer them as per usual.

He turns his head, not that it does any good with the blindfold on, this one is a good enough fit that he can't even cheat by looking down his nose to see what's being done with his body. There's silence from the driver's side though, so Sylvain presses on.

"Its not our anniversary, that was last month, and I didn't even forget, so you can't be taking me out somewhere to murder me and dump the body."

That gets him a huff that’s as close to a laugh as Felix will allow when they're playing like this, refusing to bend to Sylvain's jokes out of sheer determination and competitiveness.

"Neither of our birthdays are coming up for a while and there's not any special community events planned right now, as far as I'm aware. And you know how on top of that I am."

"Be quiet." Felix says, words sharp, tinged with pleased amusement.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the road and traffic relaxing.

"I owe one of our friends a favor and they called it in tonight."

Sylvain shifts in his seat, wanting to ask for details, but mindful of Felix's order. He couldn't think of anything any of their friends had done for them lately, certainly nothing that Felix would consider worthy of returning a favor for, and nothing that'd require him blindfolded.

"I'm dropping you off. You're the favor." Felix states this evenly, a level of detachment that has Sylvain on edge, in a good way, "You'll do as you're told and let them have you however they'd like. I'd better get glowing reviews, I'm showing you off after all, can't have people saying what's mine isn't good."

Sylvain nods, heat swirling, the implications shooting straight to his cock. They'd talked about this, a few months ago, negotiating how they'd do this and who they'd be comfortable bringing into this. Who Felix would feel comfortable enough to loan Sylvain out to, to be used like a whore. 

The humiliation burns, but he relaxes into it, trying to count the turns and pauses of their drive and figure out who's house they're going to, even if by this point Felix is probably driving in circles to make him lose sense of direction and he'd have had to be paying attention from the beginning for that to work anyway. Now that he has some idea of what to expect, this narrows down the list of friends dramatically. There's only a small handful of people they both trust with something like this, after all.

Claude's the first to come to mind, bright and happy and absolutely a mindfuck. He'd be in for a night of teasing and denial and intermitted with so much pleasure it'd wring everything out of him, and Claude would expect the same from him. It'd be a lot of fun. 

He'd be in a world of hurt from Dorothea, with a healthy side of humiliation too. They go to her when Sylvain wants to be utterly debased and Felix can't bring himself to say the mean things that both of them knows isn't true but Felix is worried that Sylvain would think it is and it would hurt coming from his husband.

Hubert, he thinks with a shiver, would take his time and tear him apart, with all the cold precision and care that he's renown for. Whether with pain or pleasure, there's the absolute certainty that it'll be done with vicious effectiveness and he'll be in tears for all of the time he's in Hubert's care.

The car slows to a stop and they sit in silence for a moment.

"You still want to do this?" Felix asks, quietly.

"Are you still ok with it?" Sylvain counters, not wanting to let his eagerness push Felix if this was something he was uncomfortable with. They've played with all three of the possible candidates multiple times before, but never like this. 

"Yeah," Felix says, warmth in his voice, "We know where we stand and you'll come back to me tomorrow. There's a part of me that wants to stay and watch too. Wants to see you wrecked by someone else."

"Gonna let me know who you're whoring me out to tonight?"

"What, do you think the blindfold is a joke? Of course not." Felix snorts, and Sylvain hears the click and release of his seatbelt before the door opens and he's left in quiet darkness.

He undoes his own seatbelt and is ready when Felix opens the door and guides him towards the door of whoever's residence he's to be left at. The knock on the door is answered with silence and Sylvain's pushed inside.

He wonders if Felix is going to leave him there without another word, but he's followed inside, and guided to take his shoes off before being walked further in. Felix's hand is on the back of his neck, silently commanding him to his knees with the slightest bit of pressure.

There's carpet beneath his knees, ruling out Hubert. Dorothea or Claude then, though he can't distinguish between them by carpet. Maybe by smell?

"Well." Felix says, and there's a hand in his hair, pulling his head back, "Here he is. Enjoy yourselves, he's certainly eager for it."

Sylvain gives the darkness his most charming Gautier grin, the affected scorn in Felix's voice shooting straight to his cock and anyone paying the remotest attention can see that Felix isn't lying.

"Oh, we're certainly planning on it." Hubert says, his voice raising goosebumps. 

Wait. Hubert's here. Maybe he's kneeling on a rug? But he vaguely remembers his feet sinking into plush on the walk here. And that sort of trickery is more of Claude's thing anyway.

"If he can manage to keep up, with what Claude and I have planned." Dorothea's perfume hits him as she steps closer. 

"Aw, shit." Sylvain says. Claude laughs, delighted, somewhere and suddenly Sylvain feels foolish. The blindfold, the car ride, the silence. Felix isn't that clever. 

Goddess, he's going to get wrecked. And its going to feel _so good_.

Felix chuckles, and Sylvain gets a kiss before the next cruel words hit him, against his lips, but loud enough for the others to hear.

"You asked for this, slut. Have fun."

Felix moves away from him, a door opens somewhere behind him. 

"Use him however you'd like." The words are cold and detached, sending a shiver through Sylvain, making him pant, squirm in humiliation. "I'll be back in the morning."

The door slams shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Felix actually leave? Probably not. But Sylvain certainly thinks he does.


	5. Day 4: Spanking: [Dedue/Felix/Dimitri]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much to add here, content warning-wise. Just Dedue/Felix/Dimitri enjoying themselves and someone getting a spanking. Oddly, this was the hardest one to write, as of posting, because I couldn't quite get it to work right in my head. I'm pleased with how it turned out, though!

A loud swat rings out as Dimitri opens the door of his bedchamber. He's not surprised at the scene before him, only that its taken this long for it to occur.

Dedue sits backed up against the headboard, his legs stretched out before him, a naked Felix draped over them.

Felix, Dimitri notes with amusement, sports a bright pink handprint spanning nearly the entirety of his right asscheek. He's pinned down by Dedue's other hand, and no amount of squirming grants him freedom.

Another hard slap and Felix hisses into the sheets, hands bunched up by his face. It’s the same spot, now a little more red.

"If you're going to do this, do it properly." Felix spits, before burying his red face into the sheets again.

"We will proceed when you acknowledge what you've done. Not before." Dedue gives Dimitry a wry smile and Felix another slap.

"What's he done this time?" Dimitri asks, watching as Felix stiffens.

"Would you like to tell your king why we're here?"

"No." Petulant, entirely deserving of the responding smack that follows. Same spot.

Dimitri chuckles and undresses, paying little attention to the two of them until he's as naked as Felix, joining them on the bed.

The handprint radiates heat under his own hand, millimeters away from Felix's skin.

"Doesn't this hurt your hand?" Dimitri asks, awed, tracing the pale skin around the mark, careful not to cause any additional pain. Not that Felix minds, if the soft grind of his hips and the way he pushes back when Dimitri accidentally touches red is any indication.

"Less then his ass will." There's a hint of darkness in those words, and Felix squirms under the weight of them.

"If he'd just get _on with it!_ "

Dedue gently pushes Dimitri's hand away, and presses down on the hand print. There's a gasp from Felix and it pulses hot through Dimitri.

"You will get nothing more than this if you don't cooperate." Dedue leans over Felix, the hand holding him down reaching up to entwine in his ink-dark hair, pulling his head to the side so that he's forced to look back at him. "Nothing more than one sore handprint to remind you of what you could have had."

Felix stares back at him, stubborn, and Dimitri watches, fascinated. 

It's strange, how they've all fallen in together, in the end. They pull on each other, covering needs for one that another can't. Dedue putting Felix in his place in all the ways that he longs for and Dimitri can't, putting into words and actions the affection that Felix means but can't often say. Felix fiercely defending them both from anyone that dares to harm them, passion and challenge in every step, care covered in barbs. Dimitri, awed at them both, giving them all the love that he's ever craved for himself, kind words and adoration for Dedue, new ways to worship and undo Felix, to reassure him that he's loved and wanted despite his sharp edges.

It shows here, sometimes, when they all lay naked together. Felix and Dedue, both stubbornly refusing to bend, Dimitri here to soften one of them.

And with Dedue smiling that sharp, cruel little smile, the one that sends aroused shivers down both of them, Dimitri decides that its Felix's turn to bend. He may not be the one on the receiving end of Dedue's hand, but that doesn't mean that he can't be caught up in the energy in this scene. 

"That can't be what you want, Felix." he says, exchanging a conspiratorial smile with Dedue, before shuffling over to sit at Felix's head. 

Dedue loosens the grip he has on Felix's hair, letting Felix's head fall forward once more. Dimitri grips his chin before Felix can bury it in the sheets again, forcing him to arch his back, to look up at him.

"You don't want to be left just a little sore and unfulfilled, do you?"

Felix glares at him for the betrayal. 

"Tell him what you said," Dedue says, running his blunt nails over red skin, "So that I may punish you and you may show us your gratitude for the correction."

There's another hiss from Felix. Humiliation, perhaps, at the words, but his eyes soften a little at the mere hint of pain and the promise of more.

Dimitri's neither a masochist or a sadist, can't possibly understand the need to inflict or take pain, but he knows the naked want in Felix's bright eyes. There's not much he can do to help, other than guide Felix into a place where he's willing to submit.

"That's what you want, isn't it? For Dedue to spank you and then for us to use you?" He runs his thumb up over Felix's lips, pressing down on the bottom one at his last words. 

Felix's eyes widen, more red flushing his pale cheeks, and Dimitri knows that they share the same thought: Felix kneeling between them, ass red and sore as Dedue pounds into him while he chokes on Dimitri's cock.

"You told me that you never wanted to hear me say it again." Felix says, to Dedue, rebellious even in his acquiescence.

"That's right." Dedue rewards Felix with another sharp smack to the handprint and Dimitri with Felix's eyes going hazy. "But I'm sure you can confess without repeating exactly what you said."

Felix blinks, focuses, looking up at Dimitri.

"Tell me, sweetheart." Dimitri says, softly, and delights as he sees Felix give in.

"I used a name for you that I'm not allowed," he admits, with a little huff of irritation and shame, "and I was rude to Dedue when he told me to apologize."

_Boar. Beast._ Dimitri pushes it aside, knowing that there's little heat in it these days, even if Dedue demands more politeness from Felix, concerned with Dimitri taking it to heart, as he had during their time at the Academy. 

"Well," Dimitri says, "That's certainly worth punishment."

He looks up to Dedue for confirmation. The other nods and raises his eyebrows, as if asking for leave to proceed.

Dimitri flicks his gaze back down to Felix.

"Ask me for it." 

"What?" Felix asks, confused.

Dimitri hardens his voice, the authority he seldom uses here seeping through. He can't give Felix pain, no. But he can sometimes put him in his place too.

"You have slandered your king, Felix." His fingers tighten as the fight returns to Felix's eyes, "You will ask him for your punishment."

He takes in the arched back, the tensed shoulders, the fingers gripping the sheets tighter as Felix struggles. He smiles down at him, possibly with a sharp, cruel little smile of his own, as Felix's eyes softens, his gaze skittering away.

"Please." He whispers, and that's not enough.

"Please, what, Felix?" 

"Please, your Majesty," he breathes, meeting his eyes again, desperate, aching for it, "Please punish me."

Dimitri runs his thumb over Felix's cheek affectionately and looks back up at Dedue, who's smiling fondly, with something like awe. He nods.


	6. Day 5: Body Writing: [Edelgard/Ingrid/Dorothea]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one does come with a little bit of a warning: This is a D/s-verse setting, where everyone's born either a submissive or a dominant and where those urges are a biological imperative. That being said, each of these characters have negotiated how to fulfill that biological imperative and everyone wants to be there.
> 
> Other content warnings: Blindfolds, horny armor removal?

Dorothea is waiting for her, watching with a smile as Ingrid lands. She's scarcely off her pegasus before Dorothea's captured her attention, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

"I've missed you," Dorothea pouts, green eyes twinkling. It'd only been a few days since she left, the trip between Enbarr and Garag Mach made much shorter by flight. "How's Edie?"

"Tired," Ingrid says, "But doing well otherwise. Things are going well."

Dorothea didn't want more details than that. War had never suited her; she remained in the capital to help hold together what remained of the world while their Emperor shattered the Church of Seiros.

"And how are you doing?" Dorothea asks, cupping her cheek and running her thumb along it. "You look exhausted."

"I was up early this morning. Nothing a good bath won't fix." She checks to make sure that there's a handler taking care of her mount before taking Dorothea's hand and walking off towards the palace.

"A bath first? Your mistress didn't leave any instruction for me then?"

Ingrid flushes, the words dragging her attention back to this morning, blindfolded and trying not to squirm as Edelgard painted all along her, turning her this way and that to ensure that her will was inscribed on Ingrid's fair skin. She remembers warm breath blowing over her breasts and thighs, drying the ink, being denied any other contact even when she'd begged for it. Even the sight of Edelgard's finished instructions had been denied her, underthings, shirt, and trousers pulled over the words before the blindfold was removed.

"She did, ma'am." Ingrid says, her gaze slipping from their destination to the ground only a few feet in front of them, their pace changing subtly as she lets Dorothea lead her.

Dorothea does nothing to help though once they're in the bedchambers they share with Edelgard when she's there. In fact, she distracts: giving kisses and nibbles as Ingrid removes her armor, piece by piece, undoing her braids as Ingrid strains to remove her boots.

Ingrid's a breathless mess by the time Dorothea has her naked, meeting her twinkling gaze with pleas.

"There we go. Let me look at you."

Ingrid looks down, eager, before her chin is grabbed, her attention pulled back to Dorothea.

"No." Dorothea says, her voice firming into command. "Let me look at you."

Ingrid gasps, holding her chin where it had been placed, hands creeping to fold at the small of her back as she otherwise holds herself still, letting Dorothea inspect her, resisting the urge to kneel.

Fingertips trace the words, Dorothea's lacquered nails making her shudder as they drag across her skin.

"Aw, I love you too, Edie," she hears whispered as Dorothea traces the endearment painted on her back, and Ingrid blushes with pride, knowing that she bears not only instructions for her own use, but the comfort to help ease the ache of the long distance between them all.

Another blindfold slips over her eyes. She stands still as rustles of cloth follow, before Dorothea guides her into the bath in the adjoining room, following after and pulling her back against Dorothea's chest.

She sighs, content and drifting in the warmth, as the words she was never allowed to see are scrubbed away, leaving her a clean canvas for the words that will be written before her departure.


	7. Day 6: Predicament Bondage: [Claude/Lorenz]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one and the next one were so much fun to write!! Listen, I fall on both sides of S/M and I never get to be on the S-side and it shows here.
> 
> Additional content warning: Sadism (as mentioned), zipper (a fun new term I learned only recently!), clothespins 
> 
> Also, I was told that as I've written it, it's technically not predicament bondage. I maintain, however, that Lorenz is indeed in quite a predicament and he's in bondage, so it counts.

"You can't be serious, Claude."

"Mm. Your choice, Lorenz." Claude says, smirking, "You were the one that insisted you could take whatever I dished out. Rather foolish, if you ask me. You know what sort of things I can come up with."

And, oh, Lorenz does know. He's spent enough time these days trussed up in various trappings, vulnerable to whatever pain or pleasure that Claude's decided to give him. He knows that Claude's clever, this shouldn't surprise him.

Still, he thinks, eyeing the sturdy pulley system Claude's managed to set up in the ducal bedchambers of the Reigan estate overnight, the weight free hanging from the block of ice, the sturdy twine, and basket of clothespins, this might be too much.

But there's challenge in Claude's eyes and Lorenz Hellman Gloucester does not back down from a challenge.

"Very well." 

He strips off layer after layer while Claude waits patiently by the four-poster bed, cuffs and rope ready, and then submits to them, wiggling a little as the ropes stretch him between the posts. 

The first pinch on the soft flesh of one of his inner thighs prompts a gasp from him, and a smirk from Claude as he attaches the appropriate set of twine to the first clothespin.

"Come on, Lorenz," he taunts, reaching for another clothespin and the other bit of twine to make a matching set on his other thigh, "Its just a little pinch."

Lorenz keeps his mouth shut after that, bearing each pinch along his inner thighs, the tender crease of his thighs, and up his stomach and chest with gritted dignity, only a small winces betraying that this hurts already. His cock is hard, and he hates that his body loves this, when his mind most certainly does not.

"You can get out of this at any time." Claude, says, seriously, readying the pin for his nipple, teased wet and hard from Claude's mouth. "You tell me that you want out and I'll cut the twine and get you out."

"I'm not a coward, Claude." Lorenz replies, chin tilted in defiance. Claude shrugs, placing the clothespin and grinning at the cry that it wrings from him.

"Just so you know that you can." He says, giving Lorenz a soft kiss, before setting the next one on his other nipple and continuing the lines of clothespins up the rest of his chest and along the skin of his inner arms, until Claude can't reach any further.

"There we go, my work is done." Claude backs away, lighting the candles close to the block of ice, satisfaction bubbling out with his grin.

Lorenz stares aghast as the man flops into an armchair, one foot placed on the opposing knee, and grabs a book from the giant pile next to it.

"Is that all?" Lorenz huffs, having expected Claude to find other ways of tormenting him until the ice melts enough for the weight to fall. There's a riding crop half-hanging out of the man's messy closet, for goodness sake.

"Did you want more?" Claude asks, eyebrows raised.

Lorenz doesn't answer, too proud to admit that he absolutely does and does not want more. He stares at the weight, at the parallel sets of twine connecting from the bottom of the clothespin line and disappearing into the top of the pulley system. It's all just loose enough that he can squirm a little without dislodging any of the pins, for now. It's warm here, so close to the Almyran border, the ice is weeping already.

There's only the drip of the water into the pail below and the pages turning in Claude's book to distract him from the building dread.

_This is going to hurt_ , he realizes, a fresh wave of fear erupting in a sheen of sweat across his skin, his stomach sinking, even as his cock twitches treacherously. _This is going to hurt so bad._

Claude wouldn't force him to go through it if he asks, he knows. The man has never lied to him here in this room, he wouldn't make him go through with it if he wanted out. And there's a very real part of him that wants out, cowardly, scared, afraid of the pain.

"I wonder how loudly you'll scream." Claude says, idly turning a page, not looking at him at all. "I wonder if it'll bring the guards, if they'll see you naked for me, red and tied up and crying."

"I won't," Lorenz insists, a hitch in his voice. His pride won't let him do otherwise, won't let him back out. 

He stares at the ice, water dripping off the weight below, and knows that he will.


	8. Day 7: Sadism: [Hubert/Ferdinand]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's actually fairly straightforward: Hubert hurts Ferdinand and Ferdinand cries.

_Poor Ferdie,_ Hubert muses, as Ferdinand whimpers under the lash, trembles as he holds himself still, for fear of putting skin far more delicate than that of his reddening inner thighs in the way of the quirt Hubert wields.

_I bet you're regretting telling me about this particular tool._

It had been an education that only Ferdinand could have been provided. Hubert had known only of the riding crop when Ferdinand had suggested bringing more pain into their play.

 _"That won't leave any real marks. The red will fade and I won't be able to feel it later."_ He remembers Ferdinand saying, a delicious pout on his lips. 

The quirt is a more fearsome tool, thin leather tails imparting a much sharper sting, leaving long thin welts in their wake. 

However, the only indication that Ferdinand regrets teaching Hubert more about equestrian tools can be heard in the whimpers and cries that he utters at every lash into the pillow he's buried his pretty face in. He keeps himself still, holding to the position that Hubert requested.  
  
Hubert drinks it in greedily, eyes feasting on Ferdinand on his knees laying over a pillow, thighs spread and rear raised high, all perfect target for Hubert's attentions. Sweat clings to his skin, clings to the hair pulled into a high ponytail, drips down his reddened flank. 

_Probably irritates all those lovely welts._ Hubert frowns, considering the state of his canvas, already well-covered and sore, long before he's finished pulling agony from his lover. 

He lays the quirt on the bed, situating himself between Ferdinand's spread thighs, running gloved fingers down his flank, just to see the shudder of pain that follows.

"You're doing so well for me, Ferdie," he coos, spreading the reddened cheeks to watch the pink hole between twitch, a low moan tearing from Ferdinand's throat as he gropes him roughly.

Poor Ferdie will definitely feel it in the morning, when he rides off to attend to imperial business. He'll feel with every bump and motion, his ass and thighs reminding him who he belongs to, who hurts him like he enjoys. Who loves him despite every silly cup of tea and every argument, who adores him with every word and touch and stinging lash.

The later of which, Hubert decides, Ferdinand is due more of.

"Turn over for me," he says fondly, smiling as Ferdinand obeys, eyes shiny with tears and the hope that the painful ordeal is over. 

He spreads his thighs again, eager, cock so hard it looks like it hurts, to entice Hubert into coming closer, to move on to pursuits more pleasurable than they were painful. There'll be time for that, in a bit.

"Not yet," Hubert chuckles, rubbing his hands over the pale, skin along his inner thighs that hasn't been marked yet, revealed by the new position. "Hands behind your head."

Ferdinand complies, slower this time.

Hubert smirks, pressing a gentle kiss to his hip, whispering "You're so good for me, sweetheart" before pulling away to stand at the end of the bed. 

He picks up the quirt, watching as the soft hope in Ferdinand's eyes is replaced by fear. 

Tears trail down Ferdinand's face as the situation sinks in. He can't hide his face away this time, can't smother the sounds he's going to make, can't do anything but watch as Hubert whips him. And Hubert revels in it.

"Ask me for it, Ferdie." He says, playing with the falls, grinning as Ferdinand's cock twitches, as his lover gasps.

There's quiet, not a sound as Ferdinand struggles, a fresh round of tears clinging to his long eyelashes.

"Please," Ferdinand pleads, only a hair above a whisper, not meeting his eyes. "Please hurt me."

"Of course," Hubert breathes, the words fueling desire even more than the tears, "As you wish."


	9. Day 8: Stuffed Full: [Edelgard/Hilda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard's tired of doing all of the work.
> 
> CW: Nothing too scary. Bondage, implied over-stimulation. I guess I could tag for past (on/off?FWB?) Hilda/Claude.

"Fine, Hilda." Edelgard snaps, "If you don't want to work, you don't have to work." 

There's a flash of triumph splashed across Hilda's face that Edelgard is absolutely going to wipe off. She just needs to prepare a few things.

"Oh good, I'm too delicate to top, you know. At least without some good motivation." She throws in a cheeky wink, splaying herself out on the bed. Tempting, but Edelgard's not having it today. 

"If I'd have realized that your laziness extended this far in the bedroom, I wouldn't have called you," she says coldly, padding along to her closet and opening the chest containing the vast majority of her toys. "I have a lot of other things I should be doing, I was hoping that you'd help me relax so I could concentrate."

"Well, I'm here." Hilda says, nonplussed. "You could always just rail me like usual. We both like that."

"Sometimes, Hilda, I don't have the energy to do all the work. I have a company to run and Hubert's sick and I just wanted to get off on your face before I sit down and try to rewrite our merger proposition."

She turns back to the bed, bringing a box with her. Hilda at least has the grace to look a little guilty, before she catches sight of what Edelgard's holding.

"Uh, Ladybug, that's a lot of dildos."

"Oh, hush." she grumbles, more out of annoyance at the nickname than anything else, "Pick something for your ass."

She leaves the selection on the bed, grabbing a silicone specimen with a suction cup from the box of assorted plugs and dildos before stalking off to the kitchen.

A moment later she returns with on of the wooden chairs from her table, placing it in front of her desk, sticking the dildo to it's seat with a tactless _plort!_

Hilda snorts, "I thought you said I didn't have to work. Riding a cock is definitely work."

"Who said you were riding it?"

"I mean, you can't just plop a cock down on a chair and it not look like _someone's_ meant to take a ride."

Edelgard shrugs, fishing out a small bottle of lube from one of her nightstand drawers and settles on the bed. No use in giving the game away too early.

"Did you find something?" There's no room for discussion in her voice, but she half-expects Hilda to have decided that something as simple as making a decision was too much work.

Hilda holds up a sparkly pink plug of medium size. Of course.

"How very predictable." Edelgard says, dryly, feeling most of her irritation fade away.

"Hey, you know my tastes, how dare you plop a box of dicks in front of me and not expect me to pick out the only good color. 

As usual, Hilda's absurd brattiness tugs at her in ways that she thought she wasn't up for today, but apparently she can't help but up the ante, to push back, even if she plans on taking things a little easier on herself. Just this once. She has things to do.

"Oh, come on Hilda, you can go bigger than that." Edelgard rummages through the box, locating the larger version of Hilda's selection.

Hilda startles, hesitant, eyes flitting between the plug Edelgard's holding and behind her to the dildo on the chair.

"What, a delicate little thing like you can't handle being stuffed full?" she teases, as if Hilda didn't outlift her in their gym regularly when Claude's able to drag her out. 

Hilda's chin snaps up at the challenge and Edelgard holds back her grin. She hasn't entirely tipped her hand, but there's drips spilling over the edge.

Speaking of which.. 

She snaps the bottle open before Hilda's thought of another retort.

"Want help stretching?"

Soon enough, she's binding her pink-haired monster of someone-not-quite-a-girlfriend to the chair, both holes filled, and smirks as Hilda tests her bonds. 

"There's not a lot of wiggle-room." Hilda complains, although the inch or so she's able to lift up on the chair doesn't seem to be limiting her too much, considering the absentminded way she's grinding her hips.

"I told you that you weren't going to ride it."

"Uh, hate to break it to you Ladybug, but this isn't going to do much for me."

"I'll fix that," Edelgard says, smirking, returning to the closet, the irritation at the affectionate nickname that had no place in her well-manicured and organized life soothed by smug glee. She grabs the hatachi, spare rope, and one of those silk ties Hilda always teases her about, even when she's been caught drooling over Edelgard's businesswear. 

The tie she tosses on the bed, before plugging in the hatachi and tying it securely to Hilda's thigh.

Hilda moans as she flicks it on, adjusting the level so that Hilda can absolutely come on it, when ever she pleases. My, isn't she generous?

"That's better." Hilda says, "I'm glad you're not mad about that whole 'I'm too tired thing'."

"Oh, not at all." Edelgard replies, returning to the bed and the box of dick- _dildos_ and considering the multitude of options. 

Black, she thinks, just to upset Hilda's abysmal monochromatic fashion sense. Plus, it'll go well with the red tie, which she secures to the base.

"You're really being understanding about the whole thing, to be honest." Hilda says, voice trembling just a little, "Not many of the people I've dated understand just how much of a pillow princess I am."

"They lacked imagination." Edelgard says, turning back around.

"Oh, please. _Claude_ lacks imagina- What's that one for? Hilda asks, eyes narrowing, watching Edelgard step closer warily, "You usually use that vibrator that you think I don't know about from the other drawer."

"Stuffed. Full. Hilda." Edelgard says, no longer hiding her grin.

Hilda, because she's Hilda, opens her mouth in shock before beginning to say something that Edelgard isn't interested in hearing, and its really too easy to slide the whole thing past those pouty lips and down her throat.

"There," she says, pulling the rest of the tie behind Hilda's head and securing it, "Now don't worry, you just have to sit there all full and pretty and let the toys do all the work. Just like I promised."

She turns the hatachi up just a little more, and stands back, watching enraptured as Hilda moans around the silicone cock in her mouth, eyelid squeezing shut as she grinds her hips against the one in her pussy.

Its distracting and Edelgard thinks that she'll allow it after all, before returning to that merger. Sit on the desk, spread her legs and tease herself while Hilda watches and comes, over and over again. Come to the look on Hilda's face when she realizes that Edelgard's not going to untie her once Hilda's had her fun and pleasure's turned to uncomfortable overstimulation. 

She'll be a delightfully entertaining distraction, while Edelgard does all the work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Claude absolutely gave Edelgard a box of dildos when he found out that she and Hilda were "dating"


	10. Day 9: Temperature Play: [Marianne/Hilda]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Christmas Miracle!!
> 
> Hilda's on the receiving end of Marianne's ice magic.
> 
> CW: None, really. Oh. I guess there's bondage too.

_Cold_ Hilda thinks, tugging at her bonds. She's laid flat on their bed, tied spread eagle between its posts. There's enough room to for her to pull herself up a few inches, but that's not a comfort when the intention is that that slack is only there so she can work.

She's not blindfolded, which she'd pouted about earlier, but now, staring up at the intricate straps encasing Marianne, she's thankful. There's no way she'd be able to get them done without at least her eyesight.

The goal is to get the pretty blue satin panties off of Marianne, but Marianne's made the "mistake" of putting them on first, the body harness that Hilda herself designed preventing her from getting them down without reaching up to undo seven, _seven_ snaps. With her teeth.

"Well?" Marianne asks, magic flaring from her fingertips, drawing uncomfortably close to the soft skin of Hilda's thighs, "You ready?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hilda says, throat dry as Marianne glances down at her from between her legs. Marianne's kneeling on all fours above her, well, knees and one hand, the other drawing close and shocking her as chill spread through her on a sharp knife's edge down her thigh. It's a mesmerizing sight, or it would be, if Marianne would allow her focus to drift and enjoy the moment.

"Better get on it, then." Marianne says, smiling, just a hint of a giggle in her voice.

Right. Seven snaps. Panties. Probably those lovely silky stockings, if Marianne's being mean. Marianne promised she wouldn't be _too_ mean, as long as she put in the work, and well, this is work she believes in, so she'll try. 

All these terrible annoying tasks to accomplish, before she'll get her reward.

She lifts up, grabbing at the nearest snap with her teeth, biting against the line of cold Marianne is drawing up and down the outside of her legs, up over her hips. It's so _so_ cold and Hilda shudders against it as her nerves flare, fire against the cold.

Each snap doesn't take much pressure, she learns, amidst the whines forced from her lips. 

"Careful," Marianne teases, swaying away when Hilda pulls too hard three snaps in, stretching the material a little too much. "You like this set, remember?"

"I can always have another made," Hilda growls, easing up on her elbows as much as she can and chasing after the next nearest snap.

Marianne swings all the way off and around to face her, and Hilda scowls.

"Come, on, Marianne, you said you wouldn't--"

More cold frosts her skin as Marianne runs her hands up Hilda's torso, a sharp smile on her face. 

"Wouldn't what?" 

Hilda shouts when Marianne tweaks her nipple, icy pain shooting through it. 

"Wouldn't be what, dearest?"

"Wouldn't be mean." Hilda whimpers, warmth from Marianne's mouth enveloping the tip she'd just hurt. She tenses, arching into the gentle bite, before Marianne pulls away, dragging her lips tightly, until the rosy nipple pops out.

"That was before you tried to ruin my lingerie." Marianne says, and Hilda can't love her anymore than she does at this moment, staring up under Marianne's sharp, predatory smile, taking in the lingerie half-done and the heated flush in her cheeks. "I could just keep you tied here, use one of my toys or my hand while I tease you."

"But you like it when I use my mouth!" Hilda squirms, pouting at the thought that all the work she's already done going unrewarded.

"Mm, I do," Marianne kisses her, slow and sweet, and Hilda feels warmth flush down all the way to her cunt. "But you're only rewarded when you're good."

"I'll be good," Hilda promises, panting. "Let me show you?"

Marianne hums, and before long she's kneeling above her again, with Hilda straining at snaps, shivering and moaning between icy fingers and a warm mouth. 

She's a little concerned about the path that Marianne's taking, fingers moving up and down her inner thigh, playing along her creases. Better not get distracted, better finish quick. 

Treating the last few snaps with at least a little more respect, Hilda wiggles instead against Marianne's touch, until they're all undone. She gives the lingerie a tug, shouting triumphantly as the beautiful, much regretted piece slides off and onto the bed beside them.

She leans up to snag one of the edges of Marianne's panties, to claim her prize and get her reward, can see the wet arousal from her hard work and the anticipation.

"Wait." Marianne says, and Hilda stops, pauses.

Marianne's other hand gently pushes her down and Hilda whines all the way.

"I've been good!"

"I know, just give me a few more minutes."

"You said you wouldn't be mean!"

"Only a little." Marianne promises, and Hilda feels her teasing fingers through Hilda's neatly trimmed hair, blowing warm air over her clit before moving one icy fingertip along her lips.

"Marianne, that's not fair, I've been good!" Hilda bucks against her finger, not sure if she wants more or less.

It doesn't convince her at all, and she spends a few restless minutes begging, Marianne's fingers, both warm and cold teasing her entrance and her clit, never quite penetrating or giving her the pressure she needs.

Finally, _finally _Marianne relents, lets Hilda shoot up and eagerly drag her panties down, laughing above her and awkwardly shifting to shake them off her gorgeous long legs.__

__"Since you've been so good." Hilda hears Marianne say, breathless, before she lowers herself to Hilda's mouth, rewarding her._ _

_Warm_ Hilda thinks, as Marianne's mouth closes over her. 


	11. Day 10: Sound Restriction: [Yuri/Ashe]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Ashe ring in the new year with a variation on their usual game.
> 
> CW: Exhibitionism, semi-public sex. Slight humiliation, if you squint.

Yuri had spoken calmly above him, the sultry voice barely muffled at all by the large wooden desk, and Ashe hadn't been willing to let that stand. Yuri had no business being cool and collected, not with Ashe kneeling between his thighs and swallowing him down.

He'd used every trick he knew (and, let's be honest, Yuri had taught him nearly every one) and had been rewarded with Yuri slipping out a moan as he came down Ashe's throat.

Ashe had swallowed and cleaned him, tucking his spent cock away neatly with a little kiss, all completely silent, while Yuri disguised the slip with groaning about how boring the meeting was. He knelt there, smirking, while they concluded their business.

Yuri had dragged him out, after.

"You've gotten too good at that, little bird. You even got _me_ to slip up."

"Better give me a real challenge, then, Yuri." He had pouted, cheeky, before getting the rest of his reward.

And now, well, he was paying for that cheekiness, just a little.

Although he had asked for a challenge, making him set everything up himself was a bit mean. The time spent attaching each silver bell to his collar and cuffs took away from his joining the celebration welcoming the new year, the warmer days to come. It gives him the opportunity to study how much movement was required before they gave him away, though. To think about the thrill of being surrounded by so many others and of having to earn his pleasure by not getting caught by any of them. 

He leaves everything under Yuri's desk as he'd been told, then mingles with the other guests at the party until Yuri gives him the signal and he slips away again.

He strips, neatly folding his clothes and kneeling on the tidy pillow they make, and puts on the fancy leather collar, the fancy leather cuffs with all their little bells and waits.

Yuri slips in a few minutes later, pulling out the chair and taking Ashe's face in his hand.

"You ready, little bird?"

Ashe nods carefully, mute, already playing their game.

"Good. Remember, not a sound. You wouldn't want to get caught, after all."

He nods again, and Yuri kisses him and oh, its so hard to not moan against the heat of his mouth.

"You might, though. Balthus will be here in a minute, I'm sure he'd love to fuck your throat if he catches you, sees you so willing."

Ashe flushes, purses his lips, doesn't make a sound.

"Or maybe he'd bend you over the desk, stretch out your pretty little hole on that giant cock of his."

That almost gets a whimper out of him. Using Balthus like that really isn't fair.

"Maybe we'd take you out to the main room and let the whole party watch as you take us both, ring all these lovely bells as we spit you between us. Would you like that, little bird?"

Ashe inhales sharply at the thought, then winces at the noise, mentally cursing himself.

Yuri grins, dangerous, triumphant and gives him another kiss.

"Got you. That's one down. You've got a long hour ahead of you, better be careful or you won't have any reward left."

Ashe nods, quiet, and they both freeze as voices rise outside Yuri's door.

Yuri pulls the chair up to the desk just in time. He gives a jingling wave, the bells on the cuff of the festive sweater he'd grumbled about earlier ringing out.

"Well, gentlemen. I know this isn't your preferred method of celebration, but sooner we get this business taken care of, the sooner we can return to our revelry."

Ashe settles in, gets to undoing Yuri's pants, and begins their game in earnest.


End file.
